


Descent

by Kitexa



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Asgard, Character Corruption, Character Study, Crossover, Drabble Collection, F/M, Identity Issues, Kinda, Other, Svartálfaheimr | Svartalfheim, Tragedy, crossover AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 09:58:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7503973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitexa/pseuds/Kitexa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's true what they say, isn't it. You either die a hero, or live long enough to see yourself become the villain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Descent

**Author's Note:**

> I've been roleplaying this version of Malekith on and off for a few years. Decided to tweak and put together a series of drabbles I've written during that time.

_“I think you need a Doctor…”_

Bright lights, brighter than the brightest sun, brighter than the eyes of the woman suffering under an extraterrestrial life force. He pulled away, searching her face, eyes, still aglow with the TARDIS’ energy; the fire in his veins suggesting the transference had worked. She’d be alright now, she’d survive, and he… he’d get another chance.

“Rose…” The Doctor managed, expected the trigger that was his transformation to occur at any moment.

Instead, the light grew brighter, all but consuming his vision. Suddenly, a sharp throb behind his temples knocked him to the ground. Arms jut out, blindly groping for the ground below. _This doesn’t feel right_ , sounded an alarm, as his ears began to ring; drowning a muffled cry that sounds like his name…

When he next woke, the pain was gone, save for a dull ache gnawing at his muscles. Groaning, the Doctor raised an arm, pinching the bridge of his nose before he dared open his eyes.

At least they work, alright. He’d worried he’d gone blind. Would’ve been a damn shame, regenerating without eyes. Or sight, rather. But he definitely could see… and what currently met his vision concerned him. _That’s a sky._ Hadn’t he last been in a space station? Encased in metal walls and one too many drooping wires?

Biting back a grimace, the Doctor sat up, still fixed on the sight above him. Definitely open sky. Nearing nightfall, as the temperature implied it must have at least one sun.

Hands curled against the earth beneath him. Damp, crumbling earth. Nothing artificial, either. Also worrisome.

 _Where am I?_ Passed through rising anxiety, looking around for a better definition. Tough to see in the dark, but most of it seemed flat. Uninhabitable.

“What the hell happened, here…"

Bracing himself on his knees, the Time Lord stood, staggering a moment as he found his footing. Had Rose done this? Had he failed to save her, again?

_You felt the energy in you, it must have worked._

If that were true, then what _had_ happened? Why send him here, why—

 _Get back to the TARDIS, you’ll find your answers, there._ Them and Rose, hopefully (in his brief examination, he’d noticed she was not with him.) If he couldn’t find his answers, at the very least least he’d get a better idea of his surroundings.

He made it only a few steps forward, before fear stopped him cold.

Rose wasn’t the only one who wasn’t present.

_It’s gone, it’s gone, shit shit, the TARDIS is gone!_

His hearts froze, latching onto the screwdriver in his pocket, as though that offered any comfort. So he’d been separated from his ship. Didn’t mean it vanished (doesn’t it?) No… no, no he’d have to look, wait til sunrise, properly see the scape, look for locals (you can’t feel it, it’s not here you’re alone, Doctor.)

"I can’t be…” Head shook, swallowing thickly. “There’s got to be another explanation.”

* * *

 

Every soldier remembers their first call to War. Even though the battles blend within each other, the first milestone, first chapter into unknown territory, sticks to the brain like a parasite to its host. If one lived as long as he, they might experience a novel’s worth.

Two novels, really - one written by the Doctor, and its sequel by his hand. A coward’s tale of backing into corners; baring his teeth when no other option presented itself. Gallivanting across the universe under the guise of heroism…often times the messes he’d cleaned up were his own. Perhaps that’s why the second volume differed drastically from the first. Trapped in the same location, century after century, he’d outgrown running very quickly. His people sought a real hero, not a quirky smile behind a wooden box. They sought a knight like days of Midgardian old, to reassure their survival, and see them through the darker times.

And so the Dark Elves gained their armor. So they gained the means to fight. By design, it bore Gallifreyan resemblance, but these creatures were not Time Lords, any longer. They had not been for some time.

Scowling at the mirror, reflecting ice and ashen features, he realized they aren’t the only ones. The Doctor lived as but an echo, now; growing fainter with each day passed. This new world had no place for cowards. Only a warrior’s resolve would see them through.

He stepped away from the glass, securing his mask in place. The image caught him off guard; a creature sealed behind an armored surface… bent on war and victory.

They will speak of him, he knew. They used to, in the old world. A monster in the dark to some. To Skarro, the Oncoming Storm.

_And now? What will they call you?_

The only name that came to mind does not exist in this world. If it does among the stars, may they never cross paths.

His stomach churned; he crosses to his desk, picking up his sword.

_I fight for survival. Not extermination._

He was not a monster.

* * *

 

 _Do you remember?_ He’s asked himself, of late. A question never often touched on; avoided largely for his peace of mind productivity’s sake. Can’t push forward with every other step heading back.

That, and the always, ever-looming fact his people–this race he’d raised from the near-ground up, hadn’t a clue who he was. To them, he’d simply always been (and likely always would be; he still had another life or two left.) _Malekith_ he’d dubbed himself. Sovereign to a world of darkness. That’s all it knew, his Svartalfheim. Darkness and a thirst for revenge.

So they had been, once. A thousand years had passed, since then; his Dark Elves now a collective hive. Some recalled their goal before the Sleep.

Most merely followed on command. Destroy because he told them to. _Exterminate_ because he asked.

_You’ve turned them into Daleks. What does that make you?_

“I am the Accursed.” He murmurs beneath his breath, staring out into the ashes of his world. Hands fold behind his black, armor clanking as his fingers thread together. _You remember, don’t you._

Of course he did _. I could never forget._ He had tried. However many centuries it took to change his face. He’d hoped his mind would change as well.

_A creature of war, forever more._

In another life, another man clad in leather might have smirked at the unintentional rhyme.  Malekith only scowled. Then closed his eyes, a rare sigh slipping free.  A soldier always, he realized, looking back. Too different, still, to break the mythos surrounding his reign. Explain his knowledge of the mortal realm–a history exceeding even those of the cursed Asgardians (they always had been the largest Midgardian advocate.) You used to be.

A long time ago.

_Enough so you remember._

It sickened him. _It didn’t, once._ Because he had to save the bloody planet. Often more than once… something about Midgard provoked hostility from other worlds.

Case and point, the bile in his throat. _That isn’t why._

It ought to be. He wasn’t human, had never been, and held no desire to change that. _I am Malekith. I am ruler to this realm._

_You used to be the Doctor._

The Doctor led this world to ruin. Trapped in a desperate resolve, he’d let carelessness corrupt him.

The Accursed would make no such mistake. Would not allow a past he no longer recognized to cripple his vengeance.

Once a soldier always one.

Once a coward, now a force to reckon with.

_I am the oncoming storm. All will face my vengeance._

All would once again know darkness.

**Author's Note:**

> I know I may have fudged a few things...it is an AU, and I hope you all enjoyed this, anyway.


End file.
